


The Fourth Quarter Mentality

by FallingForFelicity



Category: markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Basketball, Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, M/M, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 02:24:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3878623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallingForFelicity/pseuds/FallingForFelicity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark and Aaron have been moved up from the Junior Varsity team to Varsity Bench-warmer status for the playoffs season. Mark is head over heals for Aaron and has every opportunity to tell him. If only Mark would get on with it. Luckily, they to spend the three week long playoffs season glued at the hip. Mark may just brave up enough to tell Aaron how he feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It may have only been a Junior varsity basketball game, but to Mark it felt like the NBA Finals. Blood and adrenaline was pumping like ichor through his veins. Nothing outside of the court existed. Everyone was moving quickly, the ball being passed expertly from player to player. He glanced up at the score board. 39-35, they were winning with two and a half minutes left. The game felt too close for comfort.  
“Outlet!” Mark shouted for the ball. A swift pass brought the basketball to Mark’s chest and he barreled down the court looking ahead. Aaron was positioned under their goal perfectly and they both knew it. Mark snapped the ball in a chest pass and it met Aaron on the block before the other team even reached half court. With a quick jump and a release the ball dropped through the net with ease.  
“Yeah! Way to go Yami!” Mark congratulated Aaron on their simple yet successful run. The game had been like this all night. He and Aaron lead their team together. Not to discredit the rest of the JV Bears’ contributions. The other eight players were good in their own respects but they knew the team would fall apart without the drive Mark and Aaron brought.  
The two of them rushed back to defend now that it was the other team’s ball. Their main post, Bob, exchanged high fives with the two.  
“When we get the ball back we should just stall for the next two minutes,” Mark huffed, short of breath.  
After a rushed outside shot from the opposing team, trying to get back in the game, The Bears did just that. They passed the ball around like a game of monkey in the middle against the defense. The buzzer went off signaling the end of the fourth quarter. Oh, what a sweet sound for those boys. They all ran towards their bench hooting and hollering. The subs and bench warmers met them half way tackling the starters. Bob scooped up one of the freshman and held him aloft like a trophy.  
“Man I wish I’d been in that last quarter,” Jack lamented.  
“Well, next time, don’t foul out and you won’t have to sit the bench like a moron,” Bob retorted.  
“Ah, it doesn’t matter now anyways. We’re District champs!” cheered Jack from Bob’s shoulders. Maybe they were too excited about being the best JV team in their district, but could you blame them? They’ve worked like soldiers since August, training and preparing. With all the work they put in they deserved to brag.  
They lined up to tell the other team their ‘good games,’ and shake the coach’s hand. Smiling, they spent another thirty minutes posing in pictures for their parents. Beaming with pride, grinning the way only champions do.  
“We should hurry up guys. The varsity game is just about to start,” Bob reminded everyone.  
“I’ll need to have one last meeting with all of you before you go,” their coach called from behind them. The boys all gathered obediently around Coach Zed. They all felt the same sense of finality in their gathering. Coach looked around at all of his players and then broke into a smile.  
“You should all be proud of yourselves for the way you’ve played this year. It’s hard to find a team with so much heart. I’m so glad I had the opportunity to coach you young gentlemen.” Coach Zed ended his congratulations with instructions on turning in their uniforms and telling them what to bring for off season starting tomorrow. They all put their hands in the middle reflecting on how it would be the last time they broke out of a huddle this year.  
“Can we say ‘District Champs’ on three?” Mark requested, grinning ear to ear.  
“District Champs on three,” Coach hollered. “One, two, three!”  
“District Champs!” The boys cheered, and most of them took off arm in arm towards their rides to the varsity game.  
“Wait! Before you go, I need to see the starters.” Those five returned in complacent acquiescence glancing over their shoulders at the rest of their team. They stood around Coach Zed in a semicircle with their hands respectfully behind their backs.  
“For everyone else on the team, their season is over, but Coach Dylon and Coach Ray have been talking about you five for a while now. They’re really impressed with how you’ve improved over the season. They want you to move up to varsity for the playoffs.” The boys looked around at each other. Mark and Yami exchanged excited knowing glances. Then Coach Zed continued, “of course, that means instead of sleeping in and going to off season on tomorrow you’ll join everyone at practice first thing in the morning as usual. And you’ll have to go to Saturday practices too.”  
Aaron groaned, “sleeping in was the one thing I was looking forward to.”  
“I kind of like getting up so early now,” Mark confessed.  
“That’s because you’re a freaking masochist,” Kevin interjected.  
“The coaches will want to talk to you after tonight’s game,” Coach Zed continued. “Eventually they’ll get you varsity uniforms, other than that you’re all set. Is everyone up for playing?” Mark and Yami chimed in their approval. Jack gave a resounding hoot and Kevin and Bob nodded simply.  
“That’s great. I’ll be with you guys every step of the way. Now get out of here before they shut off the gym lights on us.”  
The drive was short and filled with poorly performed renditions of “We Are the Champions” by Queen done in ridiculous voices. Three sweaty high school boys were shoving at each other for space in the back seat of Bob’s car while he and Kevin sat comfortably up front.  
The boys rushed into the gym and found seats to watch the varsity’s last district game. The Bears were already officially district champs, this game only decided the ranking of the other team. The North county Hawks’ chances of moving up through the rankings looked pretty slim when you considered the Bears’ record of 26 wins 2 losses.  
A familiar song came on overhead and the JV crew knew it was time for the players to be introduced. Everyone stood up to watch the team take the court, as is one of the many arbitrary sports traditions the school upholds. A very enthusiastic man began announcing. It was practically unintelligible except for the familiar names of their treasured Varsity team.  
“Number two, Danielllll Aaavidaaaan!” The announcer roared. Danny ran onto the court and shook hands with the ref before taking his place at mid-court.  
“Number five, Waaaade Barnes!” The second post ambled onto the court following Dan’s lead.  
“Number twelve, Barry Crammer!” Barry half jogged half galloped blissfully out onto the court. If you didn’t know him you would think it was a show of over confidence, but Barry was just like that. He was a galloping kind of dude. He didn’t look like much next to the giants they had for posts.  
“Number 35, the handsome Arin Hanson!” Arin followed suit. He exchanged high fives with everyone at mid court.  
“And our starting point guard, number 12, Tom Fischbach!” Mark cheered with more intensity at the announcing of his brother.  
The bench warmers ran onto the court now, Ross and Jon jogged up and they all high-fived in the middle. Then the two subs made their way back to the bench.  
After the tip off, the game went by in a blur. No one on JV really paid attention, they were too confident in their Varsity to bother watching. They were more concerned with their own victory. They looked up at the sound of the final buzzer, and didn’t seem impressed with the score 65-32. Another win for their Varsity: nothing special. The noise in the gym began to die down as the crowd slowly flooded out of the gym. The five of them being moved up knew it was time to go find the coaches.  
They waited outside the locker room knowing the varsity had just gone in to hear the traditional after-game-speech. Just as they expected the coaches came out a few moments later and saw the five of them.  
“Perfect! We need to talk with you five,” Coach Ray exclaimed.  
“I know Coach Zed mentioned what’s going on already, but we wanted to handle this personally as well,” coach Dylon started. “You boys know that four of our varsity players are seniors, and that means we’re looking for someone to step up next year and fill in the gaps. Coach Ray and I have seen a lot of promise in you, and we want you to get to experience being on the varsity this year. It’s gonna be good for you to understand what it takes to play the way they do.” Mark yearned to have the kind of skills the varsity had. He thought enviously of the way his brother played. Tom was a seasoned veteran on the court, when he dribbled he stared down his opponents with a smile because he knew he already had them beat. He knocked down shots so beautiful they took your breath away. “It’s not going to be a walk in the park. I can coach you there, but you have to want it. Is everyone ready and willing to sacrifice for this team?”  
“Yes ma’am,” the five of them chimed in unison. They were more than ready.  
“That’s all we can ask for,” Coach Dylon dismissed them.  
Mark went in search of his brother with Aaron trailing behind.  
“Tom!” Mark shouted in greetings as his brother emerged from the locker room.  
“Hey, kid! How’d the game go?” Tom smiled warmly.  
“We did awesome, y’know, as per usual.” Mark vaunted shamelessly. “Can we take Yami home? He doesn’t have a ride.”  
“Hmm I don’t know, Mark. It’s really out of our way. I don’t have enough gas in the car to get us all the way to Britain.” Tom joked with a level voice, but his smile gave him away.  
“I live across the street from you!” Aaron protested. “You Fischbachs are all racist.” Aaron crossed his arms and acted like he was pouting.  
“Is British even a race? I don’t know,” Mark teased. The three of them headed towards Tom’s car.  
Mark and Aaron were giving a spirited play-by-play account of their game from the back seats.  
“You should’ve been there, Tom! We were on fire from the start,” Mark exclaimed.  
“I wish I could’ve, buddy, but coach Dylon asked us to stay in the gym. You guys can give me all the details now,” Tom suggested. The two sophomores chattered away recounting everything from Jack shooting from the three point line for the first time to one referee showing up in ridiculously short shorts.  
“And trust me, nobody wanted to see that,” Mark said with a shudder.  
“Oh! Oh, Mark! Tell him what Bob did!” Aaron said, already laughing.  
“How could I leave out the best part? Tom, I’d never seen anything like it. Just try and imagine this. So the team all notices the ref for the first time, right? And we’re all thinking the same thing and Bob just-” Mark gasped, laughing already “he just out of nowhere starts signing that stupid Celine Dion song, like: ‘Every night in my dreams, I see you I FE-EEL you!’” Aaron joins in, both of them signing awfully at an octave higher than they should. Tom begs them to stop through fits of laughter.  
“Please! Anything but “My Heart Will Go On,” Anything!” The car is filled with breathless laughter as the three boys lose it. Finally they pull up in front of Aaron’s house.  
“I’ll walk Yami up to the door so he doesn’t get murdered,” Mark declared, getting out of the car.  
“It’s literally ten steps from here, I could make it on my own,” Aaron argued.  
“Nope; can’t risk you getting abducted by ninja space pirates,” Mark punctuated his retort by slamming the car door behind him. Mark thought about the one other reason he wanted to walk Aaron up to his doorstep.  
The two sophomores went up to his door and they waited for someone to answer the bell.  
“Well thanks for keeping me safe for the fifteen seconds it took to get from your car to my house,” Aaron said feigning annoyance.  
“No problem! You should know it’s entirely for selfish purposes,” Mark responded.  
“What does that mean?” Aaron asked, confused. Mark glanced down in spite of himself at Aaron’s lips. What Mark meant was he couldn’t help but imagine the horribly cheesy romance trope where the couple ends their date by kissing on the door matt. He hoped beyond hope that it would happen then and there, but he couldn’t say that to his best friend Aaron.  
“I mean I can’t let you get abducted by aliens because I would die at tomorrow’s practice without you,” Mark settled. It would’ve been awkward for them to make out anyways. Tom was right there waiting in the car.  
“That’s true, you’re completely useless without me,” Aaron smirked.  
“Hey now! ... You’re a rock star…” At that moment Aaron’s mother opened the door. She told Mark to thank his brother for the ride. The boys waved each other goodbye and mark tramped down the sidewalk back to his brother.  
Mark got in the passenger seat and slammed the door shut with a heavy sigh.  
“You’re a hopeless romantic,” Tom said knowingly.  
“Am not,” Mark vaunted before sliding down his seat into a ball of teenage hormones.  
“Sit up like a human being so I don’t get pulled over, please.” Tom started up the car.  
“We live right there Tom.” Mark gestured across the street. “Just let me be dramatic,” Mark’s voice was muffled by his knees, which were somehow pressed against his face.  
“You know you would be so much better off if you just told him,” Tom said evenly.  
“It’s not that easy, big brother,” Mark sat up again. “He’s not into guys.”  
They pulled into the driveway. The street was quiet and the wind was blowing steadily, bringing a chill through night air.  
“You don’t know that. Have you ever asked him?” Tom questioned, putting the gear shift in park.  
“No, dude that would be rude anyways. You don’t just ask someone if they’re gay,” Mark argued.  
“Well…” Tom turned to face his little brother. “Even if he’s not into guys, who says he’s not into you?” Tom said wisely. Mark considered hopefully what his brother was implying.  
“I don’t know… it would be nice is all I’ve got to say about that.” Both of them sat thoughtfully in the car for a moment.  
“Well don’t stay up too late being dramatic again; we have practice tomorrow, little brother.”  
“That’s ‘varsity player little brother’ to you,” They climbed out of the car and made their way inside, both of their minds wandering to the weeks of early mornings ahead.


	2. What a Mess

Nothing wakes Aaron up quite like the panic of being late for practice. It was ten minutes past five and his first varsity practice started in twenty minutes. Aaron stared blankly at his alarm clock before a sense of urgency finally sunk in.  
“Oh, crap!” He threw himself out of bed in a heap of sheets and limbs and scrambled around the room gathering everything he would need for school. Five minutes later he stumbled downstairs shoving papers into a backpack only wearing one shoe.  
“Mum we’ve got to go!” Aaron whispered sharply. Aaron’s mother was sitting calmly at the table with her breakfast and some strong coffee.  
“What are you talking about sweetie? You don’t have practice anymore. School doesn’t start for a couple of hours.” She was genuinely confused by her son’s panic. Aaron realized then that when he got home that night he forgot to mention to his mother that he was now on varsity.  
“The JV starters got moved up to varsity, now c’mon Mum we don’t have time!” Aaron pulled his mother to her feet lamenting not having his license yet.  
Aaron laced up his basketball shoes in the car and told Mrs. Ash the shortened version of how they were moved up between bites of an apple. They pulled up to the school gym in the nick of time it seemed.  
“Bye, Mum!” Aaron called over his shoulder as he ran inside.  
He threw his backpack haphazardly into the locker room and made his way in the gym. Thankfully everyone was still shooting around. Practice hadn’t even started. Aaron yawned and it occurred to him that he was going to be tired for a long while.  
*+*+*+*

Aaron collapsed into his seat at the lunch table with a groan.  
“I swear they’re trying to kill us,” Aaron conspired with his head against the table. Mark sat down comfortably in the seat next to his and rolled his eyes.  
“Practice was not that bad you big baby,” Mark said pulling out his lunch. Bob and Wade plopped down in a couple empty seats.  
“Is Yami still recovering?” Wade asked. Aaron’s head shot up suddenly from the table. He glared at Wade.  
“You can cram it, Wade! The varsity only did half the crap we did today,” Aaron snapped. “So many sprints,” he shuddered and laid his head back down against the table.  
"There, there, buddy,” Mark soothed, rubbing circles on Aaron’s back. “Wade, apologize in your Gollum voice.”  
“We’re sorry, precious,” Wade gurgled in a way that was oddly sincere. Mark laughed. No one else did.  
Jack and Kevin plopped into a couple of seats with trays from the lunch lines. They were just as worn out as the rest of the team, and the toll was no doubt greater for them. Freshman year with coach Zed is infamous for its ability to break you down into tiny little bits. Mark had never seen someone struggle to open a pudding cup but there Jack was, deep in concentration, trying his best to get to the chocolatey goodness. Day one, Mark thought. He wanted to try and say something motivating.  
“Get over yourselves you bunch of whiny babies,” Mark decided would be the most effective sentence to cheer them up. “We’ve worked this hard before, we can do it again. Just fifteen more practices.”  
For whatever reason, Mark’s speech didn’t get through to them.  
“Mark, you realize we probably won’t play in any of the games, right?” Bob pointed out, “You’ll have to forgive us for being less than motivated.”  
“So we’ll sit the bench the whole time. Who cares? We’ll still get a medal out of it. Plus next year we will play,” Mark tried. There wasn’t much of an effect.  
“Will you people just cheer up!” Mark cried desperately.  
“I thought it was pretty motivating,” Wade offered.  
“Shut up, Wade.”  
*+*+*+*  
Lunch and athletics are the only things to resemble classes Aaron shared with Mark. As Aaron tried his best to stop himself from visibly shaking in his English class, he wondered if having Mark by his side would help calm him down. They were giving persuasive speeches today for none other than Coach Zed’s class. _This can’t possibly be legal,_ Aaron thought, _it’s abuse, or torture, or something They can’t make us give speeches like this._  With his eyes shut Aaron focused his entire being on breathing. He tried to take deep, calming breaths, but he only noticed how ragged and irregular his breathing was. He was speaking next.  
Maybe it would help if Aaron had someone’s hand to hold. Aaron considered how comforting it would be to hear Mark tell him it was going to be alright in his deep rumbling voice. Everyone at their desk was suddenly clapping halfheartedly. The girl who was going before Aaron must be finished. Fighting every instinct in his being, he stood up to take her place. He looked through the room at his classmates and it felt more like standing on the edge of a skyscraper he would have to jump off. His mind went blank for a moment and he worried he’d forgotten the whole speech (even though he had the entire thing written down in MLA right in his hands.) There was no way for him to stall; he had his toes hanging over the edge and it was time to take a dive. With a deep breath Aaron started speaking.  
Of course his speech went off without a hitch. He dreaded the presentation with his entire being and that drove him to memorize exactly what he wanted to say. He was more than prepared.  
Aaron’s head was spinning as he walked back towards his seat, making an effort not to stumble. He turned towards Coach Zed again and with a very quiet voice asked to go to the bathroom. He didn’t actually hear Coach give the okay for him to go; he was extremely focused on keeping composed. Aaron left the room anyways pretty sure it was fine. He found himself in the boys’ bathroom in front of the sinks looking into the mirror. The horrible lighting made his pale skin look a sickly green. He sighed and relaxed his shoulders.  
“You did it. The speech is over,” He spoke aloud in a small warbling voice in an attempt to console himself. Aaron tried to smile at his reflection, and it was then that he lost control. His eyes filled with tears and his body shook violently. _At least I waited until after the speech to break down._ He started to wash his hands in the sink distractedly; the cool water was soothing.  
He decided it was best that Mark hadn’t been there to witness this episode of his. He wouldn’t understand. Hell, _Aaron_ didn’t understand. He doesn’t know why he’s crying. Is it relief? No, it feels miserable how could this be relieving? Aaron’s anger flares suddenly when he thinks about how ridiculous he’s being. _You’re too damned emotional. Grow up,_ He thought to himself. If only it were that easy.

*+*+*  
Mark was never _oblivious_ to Aaron’s emotional state. As it turns out Aaron is remarkably transparent and because of this whenever something goes wrong for him, everyone on the team can tell. At the same time no one ever connected Aaron’s fits to anxiety. So during the morning practice the Thursday of their first varsity game, Mark wasn’t sure why Aaron was so on edge.  
With two to a goal the seven varsity players and five JV they moved up were taking turns on the free throw lines. It should’ve been fairly calm, they were just shooting. With every shot Aaron missed the frustration on his face became more pronounced. If the coaches weren’t there he would’ve been spewing profanities but since they were being watched Aaron settled for some very creative substitutes like “holy fudging Christmas” and “buttgoblin.”  
“What’s going on, Yami? You seem kind of...” just then Aaron’s shot crashed against the backboard and bounced off. Aaron bared his teeth and groaned. “-on edge…” Mark chose his words carefully.  
“Nothing’s going on,” Aaron lined up his next shot. “It’s just none of these shots are going in!” The ball clanged against the rim before sailing off again. Every time Aaron missed he couldn’t help but feel like each shot was worth the world. He was letting his team down. He was a failure. Even practicing didn’t help it seemed. Every shot he took was worse than the last; why did he even play basketball?  
“Yami, you’ve made like eleven shots. That’s as many as I made during my turn,” Mark reasoned as he rebounded for his friend.  
“Yeah but,” Aaron hits a shot. “I want to do better.”  
“Man just chill out,” Mark tried his best to console Aaron. “We’re not even going to play in the game tonight. Your new title is “Bench Warmer,” buddy.” Aaron felt himself relax a bit. Mark was right after all. Still Aaron got ready to make his counter argument just as Coach Dylon’s whistle blew signaling the end of the drill. The varsity starters took the court to run through the extensive list of plays they had while everyone else gathered on the sideline out of the way. Well, everyone except for Jon and Ross who stood patiently underneath the goal waiting to be subbed in.  
“See? They’re not even going to have us run through plays. There’s no way the coaches would put us in,” mark said with confidence.  
“Okay but here me out,” Aaron was relentless. “What if someone on the other team has a hatchet or something on them and before the refs notice they just start swinging and take out three of our starters. They would have to put us in. What then?” Mark shot Aaron a dirty look.  
“Where were they keeping a hatchet?” Kevin Asked.  
“Where would you keep a hatchet?” Jack asked with a sly grin. He wiggled his eyebrows as if to say “Yes I’m referring to butt stuff.”  
“Gross, Jack,” Kevin admonished.  
“All I did was ask a question! You’re the one with your head in the gutter,” Jack defended.  
“Brace for an uninterrupted hour and a half of this,” Bob said referring to the bus ride they would take to their game later that day.  
“Freshmen,” Mark lamented and shook his head.  
“Freshmen,” Bob concurred.


	3. Welcome to the Playoffs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> highschool boys are awkward. Ball is life. No civilian casualties. Please enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter to make up for the long wait.

It was practically dark when the Northmond Bears’ bus made its way into the parking lot of where the game would be. As Coach Ray brought the bus to a halt the constant stream of chatter and laughter coming from the players slowed and quieted. The varsity players saw the school’s entrance and couldn’t help but imagine the night ahead of them. Everything between the tip off to the final buzzer was yet to happen and was in their hands to shape the outcome. The seven original varsity players, all hardened with determination, packed up their belongings to take inside.

As the JV players filed off the bus after them they weren’t feeling quite as ferocious. They followed obediently with a strange hush overtaking them. This was a foreign new world for the five of them even though there was nothing unfamiliar about away games. Mark wondered what felt so unusual about it all.

Coach Dylon lead the team into the locker room and the boys took seats on the single bench in the middle of the tiny room or on the floor around it. Coach Dylon then told them exactly what was going to happen from then to game time. She gave a minute by minute schedule and explained that each of the teams would have a chance to practice on the court before the game. For thirty minutes it would be just their twelve players and the coaches in the gym so they would have time to get a feel for the court. Then thirty minutes in the locker room while the other team took their turn: this was standard for playoff games.

“I need you boys to start preparing yourselves for the game. When we walk out on the court in three minutes and you start to warm up, I want you to start thinking basketball. We’re here to play,” Coach Ray reminded them. The coaches went out into the hall and there was a moment of heavy silence between the players. Then Arin broke in.

“Wait!” Arin cried theatrically. “Do you mean to tell me this is a basketball game?” With an encouraging laugh Danny jumped in.

“Yeah, is this not a cooking class?”

“I signed up to bake tasty treats. What is this basketball crap?”

Somewhere in the process of the pair’s ridiculous banter everyone began to relax. Maybe the humor was all in the inflection of their voices or maybe there was nothing humorous about what they were saying at all but either way it didn’t matter. It did the trick. Everyone was up and bouncing on the balls of their feet, smiling, and laughing.

They filed through the double doors into the empty gym. The room was bigger than Mark was used to. The bleachers stretched up to twice the height of their home gym. The court floor was lower than ground level and reflected the style of an ancient gladiator arena. When the boys spoke the sound was swallowed up by the enormity of the room. The score board was already counting down from thirty minutes.

Halfway through warming up with a shooting drill Mark realized what felt so unusual. He had never been part of a team or group that wanted something so badly. He could feel how desperately the starters wanted to win, how hungry they were to continue playing together for as long as they could. It felt like so much was at stake. With ten minutes left on the clock the organized shooting drills were over and the coaches said to shoot threes and free-throws until time was up.

“Hey! Get over here and rebound for me, little brother!” Tom called Mark over from the other goal. Reminding himself that he wouldn’t be playing in tonight’s game, so there was less need for him to shoot, Mark took on the responsibility of helping Tom practice.

Tom was shooting in concentrated silence, aside from the occasional jab at Mark’s lack of passing Accuracy. So Mark’s mind was left to wander. His focus mainly shifted between admiring his brother’s consistency on the three point line and admiring Aaron from the other side of the court. That’s when he noticed how sick Aaron looked. Compared to his normal pallor Aaron looked practically transparent and Mark could see him breathing heavily from the other side of the court. What’s going on with him? Is he still freaking out about the game tonight? He wasn’t entirely wrong. Mark snapped back to attention when his brother called his name.

“Mark! Kid! Let’s get a move on, our time is up,” Tom gestured up at the clock counting down from forty seconds. The whole team jogged towards the double doors leading out to the locker room. When the front of the group reached the hall they were met by a sudden unfriendly surprise. Waiting behind the doors ready to take the court, they discovered the Grandhull Stallions. The opposing team shot hostile, cold glances at the boys as they walked wordlessly by to their locker room.

Twenty eight minutes to game time and the boys were waiting quietly for Coach Dylon to meet them in the locker room. The stillness of the room was disturbed suddenly by the squeak of a door hinge and the determined sound of heels clicking on tile. The boys’ heads all turned to face Coach Dylon who settled in the room with Coaches Zed and Ray on either side of her. Even the archaic, rusted lockers seemed to have their focus on her, leaning in, transfixed.

“Thirty two,” Coach’s voice reverberated off the walls of the modest room. “This year you’ve won Thirty two games and had one loss. That’s an impressive record and you should be proud of yourselves, but I know that this team has more to prove. ” There was a pause as she looked at each player’s face before continuing.

“I’ve been coaching for a long time now and I’m gonna let you boys in on a secret: There are a lot of things that make a team great. You can’t get far without skill, teamwork, or being coachable. But the teams I’ve coached who made it far all had one thing in common. They played with heart. They played with fire in their eyes and nothing that stood in their way remained standing for long. I see that in you boys. I’ve been coaching this team for a year now and I know how badly you want this. Why else would you be up at the school at five in the morning practicing? Why else would you be in the gym on the weekends shooting freethrows for hours at a time? Every. Last. One of you put in the effort for this and now you’re here, and I know you’re ready.”

There was a swell of emotion in the room. Every player sat forward buzzing with determination and energy. An itch formed on Mark’s heart and the temptation to bound out onto the court and take on the opposing team right then and there was stirring in his blood.

“If we win tonight we keep playing. The losing team is out of the running; they’ll turn in their uniforms tomorrow morning. We don’t want to have to do that. I want to keep this team together for as long as we can because we’re family.” This was met with nods from the varsity players, especially the seniors. “I can only ask you boys to give it your all on the court tonight. To set everything aside for the next thirty two minutes except for what’s inside of those painted lines. That’s all I can ask for but I know it’s more than enough.” “We’re going out there in ten minutes, be ready,” Coach Ray concluded for Dylon. The three of them left the boys to their own devices.

*+*+*+

The boys were standing now in a circle with their shoes laced up and their Dark blue jerseys tucked in. Everyone stood shoulder to shoulder except tom who was smirking from the center of the huddle.

“Some of you are new and haven’t done this before, so just follow everyone else’s lead,” Tom advised. “Now, I’m gonna ask you a simple question and you know the answer to it,” the varsity players started to clap out a beat. The pattern was consistent but the volume grew and swelled as each new pair of hands picked up the rhythm. Tom, clapping still, turned to face Wade in the circle. They exchanged smiles before Tom began.

“Are you ready to play?”

“I’m ready to play,” Wade answered and tom jumped to the next player.

“You ready to play?”

“I’m ready to play!”

“You ready to play?”

“I’m ready to play!” it continued all the way around until every player said they were ready. All the while the clapping grew louder and the players grew more energetic. Now the clapping was sporadic like cheering instead of the organized rhythm from before. Then the boy’s began to shout and hoot in the weirdly ritualistic way that humans do when displaying excitement. They were ready to play.

*+*+*+*

They paraded into the gym, sprinting towards their end of the court. As they made their way, Aaron was struck by the wave of sound from the crowd in the bleachers up above. _Half the town must have decided to show up._ This wasn’t the least bit an exaggeration, but to be fair it’s a very small town. Aaron focused all of his attention on the basketball in his teammate’s hands to try and block out the nerves. The pre-game warmups began as per usual and Aaron allowed himself to get lost in the regularity and the routine of passing and shooting. Three minutes to game time and he’d managed to swallow most of his nerves. At the very least he appeared calm, and that would be enough for him. He glanced back up at the clock moments later and realized time was playing tricks on him. Fourty five seconds to tip off, which means it’s time to go to huddle around the coaches in front of their bench.

Thank goodness Aaron didn’t need to remember anything Coach Dylon said in that brief huddle because he was completely out of it. He was at least conscious enough to put his hand in the middle and shout “Team!” with the rest of the players. Next thing he knew he was sitting near the end of the bench, between Mark and Kevin, watching the starters set up for the tip off. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“You doing okay, Yami?” Mark’s voice was low and full of concern.

“I-” Aaron didn’t have much of a response. He shook his head no without meeting Mark’s eye.

“Don’t worry, it’s okay to be freaked out. Still, there’s no reason to be. We’re not going out on that court tonight,” Mark soothed.Aaron thought about this.

“Promise?” Mark saw how genuinely shaken Aaron was; he was wide eyed and fidgety and downright scared.

Mark took Aaron’s hand.

“Promise.”

The ball left the referee’s hand and soared up towards the ceiling. Two boys leapt into the air after it, each trying to reach the ball before the other. One in a blue uniform, the other in the traditional home team white jersey. The lanky Jewish boy in a blue jersey managed to get his hand underneath the rubbery skin and bat it skillfully towards his point guard, Tom. A quick pass up the court and the boys were up by two points in seven seconds.

“They won’t even need us,” Mark assured. The five JV boys were left astonished during the first quarter. How is it that the Stallions even became the champions of their own district? Layups and fifteen-footers fell regularly on the visitor’s side and despite the hackneyed normality of sinking shots, with every point the boys on the bench cheered. It was their duty almost to be constantly excited and involved in the game. The score was a staggering twenty two to four as the starters took the bench between quarters. All Coach Dylon had to say was good work.

As the second quarter started up, coach Dylon generously let Ross and Jon in on the action; they subbed in the game for Wade and Arin. She was feeling confident and with good reason. Tom fed the ball to Jon who fought with surprising tenacity through the taller defenders and landed a shot from down low. Their lead continued to climb.

Besides the subbing in, the second quarter passed much like the first, except now the Stallions were feeling vicious. Being stomped out in the first round of the playoffs is never any fun, but there was a particular player that was taking the score too personally. Number thirty two, a stout guard with a shiny red face, was getting more physical on defense. He was defending Ross, and his first mistake was to assume Ross would take a beating without retaliating.

Thirty two was up in Ross’s face, shouting every time Tom passed the ball his way. With every encounter Ross became more visibly frustrated. With ten seconds on the clock before half time, Tom passed the ball to Ross for a three point shot, but he couldn’t get set up fast enough. Thirty two was on him in seconds, slapping at the ball to try and knock it loose.

He sounded like one of the pelicans from Finding Nemo, “Mine! Mine! Mine!” He must know how ridiculous he looked. Finally Ross led him one way with a jab and drove by in the other direction for an outside shot. It sank perfectly with a flick of his wrist and a sly grin just as the buzzer sounded for half time.

The Boys ran screaming into the locker room. As the door closed behind the last player, the coaches heard Ross’s voice over the other boys “AND I TOLD HIM COME AT ME SCRUB-LORD I’M RIPPED,” followed by riotous cheers.

The Coach’s halftime speech was, of course, awe inspiring and full of hype, but all she had to do was relay the events of the first half and tell them that if they do the exact same thing then they’ve won. In the midst of the excitement, Aaron lost himself. The fear that tied knots in his stomach was laid aside to make room for the incredible high the varsity infected them with. He hadn’t done a single thing to contribute to this game but he felt involved just the same.

The third quarter went by without incident. Mark noticed that Ross remained on the bench this time, which was probably for the best, judging by the vehement number thirty two raking in fouls like they would win him his vengeance. Forty eight to twenty three and there was one quarter left. Honestly the JV boys on the bench had started to lose interest in the game, they were confident in the starters and were just waiting for the clock to run out so they could pile back into the bus and go for pizza. They continued cheering, but they all found their focus drifting to other things.

“Do you think I should grow a beard out like Danny?” Mark asked them all.

“Danny doesn’t even have a beard, It’s just a lot of stubble,” Kevin corrected.

“Well either way it looks super sexy and I wanna try,” Mark jeered.

“You’re a sophomore, Mark. You physically can’t grow facial hair yet, it would just look bad,” Arin said knowledgably.

Mark was about to protest when coach Dylon called a time out. The clock stopped with a minute and thirty seconds left till it was all over. The varsity players sat down heavily, catching their breaths.

“If you haven’t been in the game yet you’re going in now,” coach commanded.

“Excuse me, coach, what?” Aaron blurted.

“Don’t think about it just go check in,” she instructed.

The five of them went and checked in by tapping their hands against the scoring table and making their way back to the bench.

“You’re running a two-three zone and high-low for an offense. No press. There’s only a minute left. It’s literally impossible for you to screw this up,” she rattled off instructions that flew over Aaron’s head, but he knew already what they were supposed to do, thankfully.

There was no time for argument as she shooed them onto the court. The five of them stood there, dazed. Aaron asked Mark which goal they were supposed to be shooting on. A referee handed Kevin the ball on the sideline and he threw it in to Mark. All of a sudden they were playing basketball.

The game was faster than Aaron expected. He watched from the three-point line as Mark passed the ball down to Bob for a quick block shot that was unsuccessful. Then they were sprinting down the court trying to successfully defend their basket. Aaron struggled to remember the fundamental elements of basketball and tried his best to simply be in the right place at the right time. Then Jack managed a steal and Aaron was sprinting down court as fast as he could. Jack made a horrible decision and tried to chunk the ball all the way down the court to where Aaron was going and the pass was disrupted by a defender. Everything was happening too quickly. None of them could keep up with the speed of the game.

Just as Aaron felt he was getting into the swing of it, the buzzer went off. The boys were then enveloped by their teammates as the starters, Ross, and Jon sprinted enthusiastically onto the court. They lined up to tell the other team their good-games and give out high-fives. After this, Coach Ray gave them permission to go speak to their parents in the stands for a minute and told them to then head back to the locker room.

Mark stood by Aaron’s side as the players dispersed into the bleachers to receive hugs and have pictures taken.

“Could your parents make it tonight?” Mark asked.

“My mum could, no work tonight. She’s right up there,” Aaron pointed.

“Yours?”

“My mom’s here. So’s my step-mom. Look, they’re sitting by your mom too, let’s go.”

When they made it up the bleachers, Mark’s mom and step-mom were taking pictures of Tom. He was shyly allowing the photoshoot to continue, though he was visibly uncomfortable. The congregation of mothers soon noticed the two sophomores and pulled them into the photo session as well. All the while chattering about how wonderfully their little basketball players did and how grown up they looked in their uniforms. The two of them smiled. It was several minutes later that the phones and cameras were retired and the mothers finally stopped showering them with praise for their game.

Hugs were exchanged and the boys made their way back down to the locker room. Aaron huffed as they walked down the empty hall. The school only bothered to turn on a couple rows of lights because the only people that would be in that part of the school were the teams. It seemed darker and more desolate than before, presumably because it was finally night.

“You broke your promise,” Aaron was trying to joke but his voice fell flat.

“Not on purpose, Yami. I really thought we wouldn’t go in. It doesn’t matter now though. We survived didn’t we? I’m alive and I’m pretty sure you’re alive and nobody threw any hatchets.” Aaron didn’t look entirely satisfied with this answer. Mark groaned before giving in.

“Okay, I’m sorry I broke my promise. Is there any chance that you’ll forgive me?” They had reached the locker room and paused outside of the door.

“Maybe,” Now Aaron was just being an ass.

“Maybe?!”

“You’ll have to make it up to me somehow,” Aaron said, musing over the possibilities of what he could get out of his friend. They went, together, into the locker room.

“How can I make it up to you?” Mark said dryly.

“I dunno, but you will make it up to me. Somehow, Someday,” Aaron grinned.

“Fine, your highness, but I have my limits,” Mark warned.

Inside the locker room the boys settled down on and around the little bench one last time for that day. The coaches entered once more.

“Tomorrow morning, the Grandhull Stallions turn in their uniforms, boys. But we’ll be practicing. We’re not finished yet.” Cheers from the players. “Tonight we’re going to celebrate with pizza!” This time the cheers were uproarious. “Congratulations, boys. Next Friday we play in the State Semi-finals tournament.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please tell me what you guys think! This is going to be a pretty long fic if you haven't noticed, and I want it to be an enjoyable ride for everyone. Thanks for reading this far, and I'll have a new chapter out soon. <3 (also is it possible to type with indentations on this site? i can't find them and it's driving me mad. :P)


	4. It Never Came Up

Mark was sprawled out on the floor of his room, doodling in the margins of his Geometry homework when his phone started to chime incessantly. There were six new messages in the group chat the coaches set up for the team. Mark’s phone continued to vibrate in his hand as he read the recent through them.

 Coach Dylon: Team dinner tmrw night at 7:30. Tom’s house. If you’re reading this you’re invited.

Coach Dylon: The Fischbachs so kindly offered to make dinner

Jon-y : Whatcha cooking up for us, Thomason?

Brother Tom: we’re ordering Wingstop

Sexy Little Danny: Coach, Tom said team sleepover afterwards?

Coach Dylon: That’s up to you boys. I won’t be staying if there is.

Brother Tom: Yes

Wadey Wade: Yes what Tom? Use your words

Brother Tom: Yes, sleepover at my place. We can bake cookies and talk about our feelings

Brother Tom: I’m being serious

Arin Handsome: I’m down with the sickness

Bob: yeah, no shame in a boys’ night

For the next few minutes confirmations from all the players flooded in that they were staying for the “slumber Party extravaganza”. Mark took this time to get up, take one step outside of his bedroom, and yell across the house.

“A heads up would have been nice, Tom! The house is a complete mess!”

“I cleaned up while you were hiding in your room like a hermit! You better pick everything up in there before tomorrow!” Tom shouted from the living room. Their voices echoed off of the walls.

“I have homework! I’m not a hermit!” Mark protested. He then retreated back into his room and surveyed the scene. Clothes were draped over everything and scattered across the floor. His backpack was lying in the center of his room with its contents spilling out across the carpet and mixing in with the dirty laundry and the occasional plate. / _It’s already pretty clean in here_ ,/ Mark thought.

Team Dinner was a tradition of the varsity’s, although, the addition of a sleepover was a first. Mark knew about it because the event is held at his and Tom’s house every other week because of the accommodating size of their living room. He had never actually been to one though; The JV players were never invited. 

Mark was excited. After watching from the outside for such a long time, he was finally being invited in. Plus he was looking forward to “baking cookies and talking about our feelings” with the team. Somehow he felt that wasn’t exactly how the sleep over would go. Mark glanced out his window and saw the fading light of day. He would clean up tomorrow morning after Saturday practice.*

*+*+*+*

                It was six fifty-five and Mark’s room was still a mess. He decided from the doorway that it didn’t actually need to be cleaned and closed the door, subsequently putting the mess out of sight. He waltzed down the hall and settled on the massive, honey leather couch in the living room.*

The living room took up a gratuitous amount of floor space in the house. The front of the room is opened up to the entry way, for which the only distinguishing factor is the transition from carpet to wooden paneling. The back wall is occupied by windows, allowing the warm light of the almost-setting sun to spill in. underneath it, Mark’s mother was sitting comfortably by the back windows absorbed in a book.*

                “Hey, mom, where’s Tom?”

                “Out getting food for the Team Dinner.” She responded looking up from what she was reading.

                “Did Tom mention the team is staying the night afterwards?” Mark asked curiously.

                “Of course he told me about the twelve teenage boys that he wants me to let run around my beautiful house all night.” She smiled. “He didn’t bother to ask my permission, but he certainly mentioned it.” Just then the doorbell rang. Mark assured his mother that she didn’t have to move a finger all evening. He had it under control.*

                In a matter of minutes the Fischbachs’ living-room was filled to the brim with hungry teenagers, coaches, and a smattering of supportive parents. The entry way by the door was overrun with bags and pillows. Mark surveyed the room to discover that Aaron and his own brother were both missing. Tom was out getting food but Aaron had no excuse for his absence. Mark decided to text him.*

                Mark: Going to be fashionably late?

                Aaron replied almost instantly

                <3 Yami: Miss me already?

                Mark: Desperately

                <3 Yami: don’t worry I’ll be there soon enough

                Mark: thank goodness

                <3 Yami: here

The doorbell rang out again confirming Aaron’s text. Mark slid to the front door on socked feet. He slammed right into the doorframe, stopping his momentum and threw the door open.

                “Coach says you’re gonna have to run for being late,” Mark teased.

                “Please, I’m not even late. I’m right on time,” Aaron said waving a hand at the clock mounted on the wall.

“Yeah, but you know what coach says / _To be early is to be on time. To be on time is to be late, and to be late is unacceptable._ / And it looks like you weren’t early,” Mark ragged.

                “Shut up, It’s fine.” Aaron dismissed himself with a side glance. He walked into the living room with his arms crossed over his chest. Mark trailed behind wondering why his last remark felt so cold.*

                Once everyone but Tom was gathered in the living room, Coach Dylon caught the group’s attention. She thanked everyone for showing up, which wasn’t necessary. She just has such a commanding presence that people turn to her. Now here she was delivering an impromptu speech with everyone’s full attention. *

                “Now as soon as the food gets here we’ll get started. Then, once everyone’s had their full we’ll play Coach Ray’s favorite game,” her last sentence ending in a sing-songy tone. Mark and the other younger players had no clue what “Coach Ray’s favorite game” was. In the midst of their coach’s detailing, the front door was flung open. Tom marched in proudly balancing tons of take-out containers on top of each other.

                “Food’s here,” he reported.*

                In a matter of minutes wings and fries were passed out and the voracious teenagers were eating away on the living room floor. Mark sat cross legged next to Wade with his plate balanced in his lap and a soda in one hand. Aaron sat on the corner of the couch behind Mark. He had his knees against his chest and was staring blankly at his plate.

                “So what actually goes on at these things?” Mark asked.

                “Well, first we eat and hang out, then we play Coach Ray’s favorite game, then Team Dinner is over.” Wade explained with a shrug. He then picked a wing out of a carefully crafted pyramid of chicken.*

                “That’s it?”

                “These things are pretty relaxed get-togethers, kid,” Tom chimed in.

                “Yeah we didn’t even hire strippers this time,” Arin contributed. “Sorry you missed out on that week.”

“I’ll be okay, strip clubs aren’t my scene,” Mark assured Arin, taking a sip. “And what about the sleepover afterwards? What’s the game-plan for that? Are we really going to just gonna- ” Mark shrugged, “make cookies and talk about our feelings?”

“The night is young. We’ll do whatever we want, Markle Sparkle,” Jon said from his place sprawled across the opposite couch. His plate was balanced precariously on his chest and he was waving his cup around in the air.

                “Oh yeah, guys, if you spill anything my mom will get pretty upset,” Mark said over the rim of his cup. Jon quickly sat up. No one wanted to upset Momma Fischbach.

                Dinner passed without incident and the living room carpet remained stainless. Everyone threw away their plastic plates and cups before settling back in.

                “Okay everybody, time for the main event!” Coach Dylon had the floor again. “I know Danny has been looking forward to this all evening.” All eyes turned to Danny, laying face-down on the warm blue-grey carpet.

                “Hmm, what? Oh! Yeah coach, of course,” Danny confirmed with a muffled voice. He then sat up normally; everyone was admiring his outrageous hair which resembled a mushroom cloud formed during a nuclear explosion. It was a fascinating spectacle of a disaster. “I wasn’t sleeping or anything.”

                “Coach,” Jack took the liberty of moving the conversation on, “What game are we playing?”

                “We’re going to play a quick round of everyone’s favorite game… charades!” She clapped her hands together excitedly.

                “Charades?” Mark turned around and shot Aaron a look./ _Is she serious?/_ To their surprise the older boys let out a cheer. / _Are **they** serious?/ _Apparently so, the seven original players hopped up and gathered into teams with an unexpected enthusiasm. The remaining five jumped up frantically to try and join in the madness. The group was evidently divided into two teams: The D club, the seniors (Arin, Danny, Barry, and Tom) vs. the team comprised of everyone else (Ross, Jon, and Wade.)They called themselves Team Wolfjob. Mark wasn’t sure how they got away with the team names because they were both obviously references to more explicit things. The other five joined Team Wolfjob as per instruction.

                “Hey guys,” Mark whispered, “what’s so great about charades?”

                “It’s not just any game of charades, Markimoo, it’s speed charades,” Ross sounded offended that he wasn’t taking an interest.

                “Well exc-use me. I didn’t know it was / _speed/_ charades.”

                “Just give it a try, Mark. You’re not too cool to play charades with us are you?”

                “… fine."

The game starts and the two teams each volunteer one player to be their actor for a whole minute. Every time an object is correctly guessed that team receives a point. The first team to 30 wins.

                Mark was astounded by how competitive the whole event was. Raised, excited voices filled the living room as each team tried to interpret the clumsy gesticulations of their actors. The house was flooded with shouts of “Kayaking! No, You’re an airplane! The Macarena!” Everyone was participating but evidently there were some charades-impaired players among them.

                “Chris Pratt! A Rock! _/The_ / Rock!” Jack tried his best to contribute. No one could tell if he was being serious or not.

                Evidently the seniors were masters at speed charades. Two rounds passed and they were ahead by eight points.

                “Who’s next guys?”

“We need someone good or we’ll never catch up.”

“Yami should go.” Mark suggested.

“What?! No, Yami should not!” Aaron protested.

 “C’mon we need to catch up you’re our only chance,” Mark pleaded.

“What are you on about? I’m crap at charades. I don’t know how to do it,” Aaron’s voice ebbed at the end of his sentence.

“You don’t / _need_ / to know how to do charades. I know you. Just do your best and I’ll figure it out.” Mark encouraged.

“… If this goes wrong don’t blame me,” he finally accepted.

                Aaron took his place standing next to coach Dylon who had a phone in her hand ready to display prompts. To her right stood Coach Ray, ready to display prompts for The D-Club. On the other side of Coach Ray was Danny: the apparent charades master. Tensions were embarrassingly high.

                “Charades on three. One, two, three!” the coaches simultaneously tapped their screens revealing the first prompt. Aaron’s was “Mowing the lawn.” He flailed around frantically, mimicking someone starting a lawnmower as best he could.

                “Lawn mowing!” someone offered quickly. / _that was pretty easy_ / Aaron thought. Maybe this wouldn’t be as embarrassing and traumatizing as he expected.

                The next prompt was “swimming,” which his teammates solved with a similar ease. He was beginning to feel confident, but then the third prompt was revealed. “Going to the dentist.” / _what the fuck?_ /

“I don’t know how to show this!” Exasperated, Aaron’s face flushed red and he stood there, unsure of what to do. Mark caught his eye and urged him on. / _I know you_ ,/ Mark seemed to repeat.  

                Awkwardly, Aaron pulled back his lips revealing his teeth and gums. His face felt hot with embarrassment. /this is ridiculous./

                “Teeth?” Mark offered. Aaron nodded and then mimicked forcefully yanking out his own tooth.

                “pulling teeth? You’re at the dentist’s!”

                “Yes!” Their team received another point and the next prompt was displayed.*

                For the next thirty seconds everything Aaron started to act out was quickly deciphered by Mark. By the end of the round, Aaron’s uncomfortable flailing was replaced with confident flailing. The other team fell sorely behind in a matter of seconds, in fact their own team mates didn’t stand a chance keeping up with the pair of them. No one could get a proper guess in.

                “Time’s up!” Announced coach Dylon. Team Wolfjob was now five points ahead.

                “Yeah! Way to go Yami!” high-fives were exchanged and Mark shot Aaron an I-told-you-so look.

                After a while the game devolved into two people dancing aimlessly while their teammates shouted ridiculous things at them.

                “You’re Guy Fieri putting on deodorant!” Arin shouted to Barry who was hopping around and doing nothing to indicate that he was pretending to be Guy Fieri.

                “You’re a beached whale!”  Jack burst out confidently. Barry stopped dancing abruptly.

                “/You’re/ a beached whale, Jack!”

                “Am not! You’re so insensitive!” A pseudo quarrel broke out between the players. Playful push came to shove and all of a sudden all twelve boys were involved in a shoving match. The room was filled with raised voices, announcing battle cries, and bouts of laughter.

                “Well,” Somehow Coach Dylon’s calm voice reached above the ruckus’s crescendo and all the boys immediately turned their attention to her. “It’s time that the coaches and parents make their ways back home. I trust you boys will all be in bed soon enough seeing as you have practice tomorrow at ten.”

                With her announcement the few parents who elected to join the party bid farewell to the players and thanked the hosts. They then hugged their children goodnight and left through the front door. Even Mark and Tom’s mother bid the team goodnight, saying she trusted them not to wreck the house. She retired to her room down the hall.

                As soon as the door slid shut behind her, Arin turned the room’s attention to the lanky boy sprawled out on the carpet.

“Why are you sleeping on the floor, Daniel?” He prodded Dan with his question and also his foot. Danny sighed.

                “Okay, honesty hour, guys. I might have spent all last night si-murmurmermur-play for,” Danny mumbled unintelligibly.

“What was that?” Barry asked.

                “I /said/ that I maybe, might have been out all night performing.”

                “Performing?” Mark inquired.

                “Yeah, dude, you know I’m in a band. We had a little gig at our bassist’s uncle’s shop.”

                “I most certainly did /not/ know you were in a band! Why didn’t I know about this?” Mark practically shrieked at the news. Danny shrugged.

                “It never came up.”

                “I knew about your band, but I didn’t know that you guys were performing. What were you /thinking/ ? /We’re in the first round of the playoffs/.” Arin reproached.

                “I was thinking that our bassist got us a gig so I had to show up. It’s not a big deal. It was just one night.”

                Arin took on an unusual, mother-hen attitude towards Danny and actually told him to go on to bed for the night.

                “Okay I’m sorry for staying up late. I just couldn’t let the band down; they needed me there.” Danny explained. It was actually Tom who broke in unexpectedly.

                “We understand why you did it and it looks like there won’t be any repercussions this time, but Arin’s right. We’re in the playoffs now and you can’t work yourself into the ground like this.” Mark was reminded of all the times Tom had spoken to him like that, like a big brother. He remembered then, that Tom was a leader on this team and, to an extent that made him everyone’s big brother.

                Danny agreed to hold off on gigs until after the playoffs. He also compliantly made his way to Tom’s room where he could sleep in peace. Danny’s harmless secret was only the first of many things to come out that night.

*+*+*+*

                Mark was delighted to learn that Tom was being one hundred percent serious about making cookies. The empty wrappers for store bought cookie dough were being thrown at players in the kitchen. Jon and Arin were in the living room rooting through the Fischbach’s box of video games looking for something to play. Aaron was sitting on the couch keeping unusually to himself.

                The timer for the oven went off and everyone cheered as it started to beep incessantly. Tom pulled them out of the oven and placed the hot pan on the kitchen counter. The impatient boys got hold of a spatula and divvied out the steaming treats. Mark brought his plate into the living room and sat down next to Aaron.

                “I brought some for both of us,” he said extending the plate out to his friend. Aaron smiled shaking his head.

                “You can’t eat those yet your mouth will catch fire,” Aaron admonished. Mark ignored him grinning and popped a whole cookie in his mouth. He turned bright red and Aaron watched his face change to a look of pure regret. Aaron took the plate from him and Mark jumped up and began to hop around blathering about the pain.

                “Hoth! Hoth! It-th tho hoth!” Mark could have run to the kitchen and spit the burning coal into the sink but he elected to fight through the pain and choke it down. Like an idiot. During Mark’s episode the other players all made their way to a seat on either one of the two couches or on the floor nearby. They sidestepped around him as he flailed about. When Mark finally swallowed the last of it everyone clapped for his performance. He looked over at Aaron who was keeled over laughing.

                “You dick,” Mark panted.

                “I told you not to do it,” Aaron reminded him.

                “That’s why I had to,” Mark explained. He flopped down on the couch beside his smug friend. His heart fluttered at the sight of Aaron’s smile, there had been so few of his lovely grins recently.

                “No way, seriously?” Arin called from where he was still rummaging through the games. “You guys have fuckin- Just Dance?” He held the case up for everyone to see.

                “Yeah, dude. Wanna play?” Tom was leaning over the back of the couch when he answered.

                “Why aren’t we already playing this game /right now?/” Arin answered, standing up quickly.

                Mark was surprised when several other players jumped up as well to play themselves. It was finally starting to sink in that his teammates were actually just people. People who liked to have fun, and weren’t embarrassed to do things like play charades or bake cookies or do really poorly at Just Dance together. They only had two controllers for the Wii but nearly everyone was standing up and trying to imitate the moves.

It felt nice. It felt so nice to be a part of everything and Mark couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. He looked over at Aaron hoping to discover him grinning ear to ear just like himself. He thought they could share the excitement, but when he looked away from the screen he found his friend was still on the couch, just watching the rest of them. /Okay now I know something’s wrong. I don’t know what, but it’s something./ He intended to find out what was wrong and he intended to fix it. Mark was struck 

with a sudden sense of protectiveness. Whatever or whoever was putting his dear Yami in a sick mood would have hell to pay.

Mark sidestepped his way out of the cluster of boys and reclaimed his spot on the couch next to Aaron. Aaron smiled at him in greeting but his heart clearly wasn’t in it. Mark tried to think of a delicate way to ask who it was he had to beat up to get his buddy to smile again. /Yami, something’s clearly wrong and if you just tell me about it I’ll be able to punch your problems in the face for you so you can smile again and we can sit here and make-out./

“Hey buddy, is something bothering you? You seem really out of it tonight.” Aaron glanced at the crowd of his friends dancing around just inches from the two of them before looking back at Mark.

Mark watched him plaster on a fake smile again. “No I’m having a great time, I’m just so tired. I mean, it is midnight already.” Mark looked at him skeptically.

“Okay but, if you ever need to talk to me about something- anything, I’m here for you…”

                Mark settled in comfortably, relaxing into the couch turned towards his friend. Mark was hyper-aware of how their knees were rested against each other’s at this angle. His closeness was maddening. Still he was concerned with making sure his dear Aaron was comfortable above all else. So he shifted the conversation to the trainwreck playing out before them.

The pair of them took to commentating on the dance skills of their teammates; they were criticizing technique and shouting out scores like judges on a tv show.

“Alright that’s it, Wade! You’re out of the running. You can /not/ dance.”

“C’mon Mark, Don’t be so harsh. He’s trying his best,” Aaron laughed.

“Well his best isn’t good enough-”  He glanced at Wade just as he initiated am embarrassing, dissonant butt wiggle all while grinning from ear to ear like he knew how ridiculous it looked. Mark clapped his hand over his face and let out a muffled scream. “Make him stop, Yami! Make him stop!”

                “Can’t stop won’t stop,” Wade then cackled and continued to dance In spite of Mark. 

                Surprisingly, the boys wore down as the night inched along. Slowly the sugar from the cookies in their system ran out and their momentum slowed to a near halt. Each at their own pace, the boys left the “dance floor” and settled languidly on or near the couches. Some went into the entryway and retrieved from their bags pillows or blankets to settle down with.

                “I’m starting to think Dan had the right idea earlier,” Kevin said with a yawn. If he had his way he would already be asleep, but the young freshman was smart and suspected that if he fell asleep now, he would wake up with sharpie tattoos all over him.

                Still, Kevin wasn’t the only one who felt sleep creeping up on them. They were all nearly out at this point. Just Dance was put away and all the lights were turned out save for a lamp in the corner of the living room.

                “So what do you kids think about your first varsity get together?” Arin addressed the five new recruits.

                “I had a pretty good time,” Bob nodded as if reviewing the night so far.

“Charades was surprisingly fun,” Mark offered.

                “The whole night was far less humiliating than I thought it would be,” Jack said.

                “Less humiliating?” Wade questioned.

                “Well-” the young Irishman already regretted bringing it up, “I just assumed there would be some kind of embarrassing initiation process where ya made asses out of us before we were ‘in’ officially,” He shrugged.

                “We can totally do that if you want,” Ross sounded chipper.

                “No, no no no. that’s alright.” None of them liked the gleam of excitement in Ross’ eyes (it was either excitement or murder… possibly both.)

                “Well we have to do /something/ now that you brought it up,” Ross pressed forward.

                “How’s about this,” Tom jumped in and defused the situation, “all five of you have to tell us a secret.” There was a sly smile creeping across his face.

                “You’re kidding,” Mark shook his head.

                “Dead serious.”

                “Why? What if I don’t wanna?”

                “Well, you could stop being a pansy and tell us the one secret /or/ we can turn you over to Ross and let him decide how to initiate you,” Tom had them beat with that. “So. Who’s first?”

                “One time, when I was little, I tried to run away and join the circus,” Kevin shrugged.

                “One time my older siblings tried to sell me ta the circus,” Jack smiled, “except I wasn’t that little. This was last year.” There was a soft wave of laughter at that.

                “Uh, I’m dating Mandy,” Bob confided. Mark shot up.

                “Whadayamean you’re dating Mandy? Why didn’t you tell us?”

                “It never really came up, Mark.”

“Last week I left my basketball socks in my locker overnight then rewore them the next day. That’s why it smelled so horrible in the gym on Wednesday.”

                “/Yami/” Nearly everyone groaned.

                “Nah dude I do that all the time,” Arin waved his hand as if to say /no big deal./

                “What about you Mark? You’re the only one left,” Tom pressed. Maybe if Mark hadn’t been so tired he wouldn’t have told them like this. Maybe he wasn’t actually ready, but then again maybe he never would be ready. Either way it’s too late for him to take it back now.

                “Ah, I don’t know,” Mark huffed, “I’m Pansexual,” He offered reluctantly. There was a long silence that followed. Everyone was too tired to process exactly what he said.

                “What?”

                “I’m Pan. I’m not straight. I’m down to clown with whoever’s in town.” He shrugged. A flood of questions came surging towards him.

                “Wow, how did you know?”

                “What’s the difference between Pan and Bi?”

                “Why didn’t you tell us?”

                “It never came up.” Mark shrugged.

                “Wait, wait wait,” Ross spoke up suddenly, “how do we know you’re telling us the truth?” Mark looked at him incredulously.

                “What you think I’m /joking/?”

Ross nodded, “it’s been done before.”

“Well first of all I don’t think that would be a funny joke. Wow that would be insensitive.” Mark felt himself running of on a tangent. He felt hot and indignant like his honor was being questioned.

“And second of all?” Ross refocused him.

“And second of all I’ll prove it!” His voice was too loud; it reverberated through the otherwise peaceful house.

“Prove it how?” Aaron sat up straight next to him, curious. Marks face was burning hot and he felt frantic. His eyes fell on Aaron. Then a solution dawned upon him that, perhaps, had more than one motivation. He leaned in and whispered a question to Aaron. Almost dazed, Aaron nodded his head in agreement. Mark shot a look at Ross.

“Like this.” He leaned in and carefully placed a kiss on Aaron’s lips. It was delicate and chaste like he was worried Aaron might break if he pressed into him.

                And just like that the two of them separated. Both were thankful for the poor lighting, hoping it would hide the reddening of their faces. Mark grinned pushed his shoulders back triumphantly. Ross actually laughed.

“Alright dude I believe you. You’re telling the truth… I didn’t really think you were lying to be honest.”

Even after this enticing news, the boys were still fading fast. Soon after the make-shift initiation everyone decided it would be best to go to bed. There wasn’t any discussion really. Everyone just started to sprawl out on the carpet or one of the couches and soon enough the conversation drifted off. It was replaced with the ambient sounds of a sleeping household: the buzz of the refrigerator, the low drum of the house’ heaters, steady, even breathing. Almost everyone was asleep...

Except for Mark and Aaron. The two of them occupied different ends of the couch against the far wall. Aaron was squeezing his eyes shut, reliving the moment in his head. He couldn’t stop smiling.

Mark was lost deep in thought. His head was spinning from having come out to so many people just minutes ago. Not to mention kissing someone. /Not just someone, Yami./ Of course it had been awkward; a whole room full of their friends just watched them kiss. But, it was so amazing still. /I kissed him. I kissed Aaron. I kissed him./ Now Mark was smiling to himself. /Oh god./ The smile faded. /What if I just ruined everything?/ Before putting more thought into it, he shot up and looked at the other boy, who was crammed uncomfortably on the other side of the couch.

Aaron sat up too, feeling Mark’s weight shift on the couch. /What?/ Aaron mouthed silently. Mark glanced around the room and then pointed at the door that lead out to his backyard. /We should talk./ although the mouthing wasn’t clear, the gesture was deciphered and Aaron nodded in agreement. The two of them tiptoed around their friends to the back door and let themselves outside.

The cool, late winter/early spring air settled around them. It was still, and it was bearable. They were both so tense and wound up, the slight chill probably did them good. Aaron was smart and wrapped his blanket around himself before coming outside. Mark lead the way without a second thought to the trampoline in his backyard. It just felt like a good place to sit and talk.

The two of them climbed up and sat crosslegged in the middle of the black elastic tarp. Before Aaron could register a thought, Mark started

“I am soooo sorry about that. It was totally completely unnecessary and I’m sorry,”

“Oh. Oh, don’t worry about it. it’s okay. Ross wouldn’t’ve let it alone if you hadn’t , er, done something.” Aaron was a little disappointed in the direction the conversation was going. “Thanks for, you know, asking permission before- kissing me.” They met eyes for the first time since the kiss. Both were smiling smugly.

“So, we’re okay?” Mark laughed.

“Of course we are, mate.” Aaron giggled almost.

“Y’know, You already told me about the gym sock thing. So honestly I don’t think your secret counted.”

“Of course it counts, no one else knew,” Aaron insisted.

“Okay, so it counted for them, but I think I deserve my own,” he reasoned, “Yami, what’s been going on with you lately? You've been acting so quiet and closed off. This isn't how you normally act; _I know you_ ” Aaron sighed. Mark was right.

“I er, I guess I have something to share. It’s not a big deal really, it isn’t. I just-” Aaron stopped and huffed again. He focused on breathing. “I guess I have anxiety. It gets pretty rough but I know its all just in my head. Still, it makes a lot of simple things really difficult,” He confessed.

“You have social anxiety?”

 “I suppose so.”

“That makes a lot of sense now that I think about it. Oh, Yami that sucks, I wish I could help somehow.”

“Well,” An idea struck Aaron suddenly, “well maybe there is some way you could help, Mark.”

“How so?”

“You do have that promise you have to make up for me,” Aaron grinned, “Suppose you help me stay calm from now on and we consider your debt repaid?”

“/my debt repaid/ You’re so dramatic.” He saw that underneath Aaron’s histrionic display, he sincerely wanted Mark’s help. “Of course I’ll help. I’ll do anything.” Aaron beamed for a moment.

“I’ve got to warn you, I’m very high maintenance. I don’t mean to be, but I can’t help it.”

“That’s nothing new, you’re always high maintenance,” Mark waved Aaron's excuse away with his hand. “Besides, I want to do this for you.” The two of them exchanged smiles, both of them were very aware of how close they were sitting. Aaron broke the tension.

“It’s getting late and it’s cold. Let’s go inside and get as much rest as we can before practice tomorrow.” Mark nodded in agreement and the pair of them climbed down from the trampoline and stumbled to the back door. Before walking inside Mark pointed to the smattering of stars in the sky. There were only a handful of dull stars visible because of the lights from the city, but Mark could’ve sworn they were brighter than usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally updated guys! I'm so sorry for the long wait. believe it or not I've had less free time since summer began than I had back before school let out. I hope you liked the chapter criticism is much appreciated. Feel free to comment. <3


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